


Like The World is Watching

by heartbreakordeath



Series: like the world is watching [1]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbreakordeath/pseuds/heartbreakordeath
Summary: Everyone is here except for meAnd I can feel the world is watching- the world is watching, two door cinema club
Relationships: Charlie Barnes/Dan Smith
Series: like the world is watching [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710577
Comments: 72
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi, first bastille fic, never thought i'd be saying that but there we go?? this is v short but i've written the next two already and they're a bit longer so those will come out once i've written ahead a bit more

As soon as he starts playing that guitar, Dan knows. It’s him. But the rest of the band doesn’t look anywhere near as sure as he does, and so they go through a couple more people, listening and nodding and chatting politely, but then he’s had enough. 

“It should be him,” he says, as confidently as he can make himself sound. His friends shrug, but he can tell they’re just as impressed. 

“You heard the guy’s music,” Will reasons with one eyebrow raised. “The man can sing.”

“And he knows his way around a guitar,” Kyle adds. 

“ _ And _ keys,” comes the acknowledgement from Woody. “And other stuff, probably. We need someone like that.”

“Easy on the eyes, too, if I do say so myself.” They all look at Kyle, who blinks back at them, nonplussed. “What? I’ve got eyes. Thought we were listing things.” A pause; Woody shakes his head and laughs silently. “What, do you disagree?”

“Never said that.”

“Well,  _ no _ , but-”

“He’s not really my type…?”

Dan laughs awkwardly and shifts, and they all turn to him. It’s a group decision, as always, but they all know how picky their friend can be.

“So it’s settled, then?” He knows Kyle’s giving him a weird look, which he steadfastly ignores as the other members of the band shrug and nod their approval. “Good. Who wants to tell him?”

* * *

“That was easier than I expected,” Kyle says when they’re alone. Dan knows from his expression that there’s a reason he’d sent Will and Woody out to the small group of musicians waiting outside.

“What d’you mean?” Dan crosses his ankles under the uncomfortable chair, uncrosses them, crosses one leg across the other.

“I mean, I know you didn’t want anyone new. Not really.”   
  


“‘Course I did!” Dan frowns. “Why wouldn’t I? It’ll be nice to have someone to help out on tour.”

Kyle shifts, too, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Well I- you know, you’re…” he gestures lamely in Dan’s direction.

“I’m what?” He scoffs, resisting the urge to curl into himself self-consciously.

“You’re…” Kyle sighs through his nose. “I don’t know. We all know you’re a perfectionist when it comes to the band, I’m not picking at you about it.”

“So you thought I would be obnoxious about picking a guitarist?”

“I dunno, Dan! How  _ can  _ I know? I don’t even know what goes on in that head of yours  _ half _ the time anymore-”

“And what the  _ fuck  _ do you mean by that?” Dan recoils, defensive, and Charlie chooses that exact moment to burst back into the room, barely attempting to hide his excitement.

“So I’m in, then, yeah?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re a family, have been for five years before he showed up out of the blue. He’s like the adopted child- no, the new stepdad- looking for validation in a new family that doesn’t need him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not quite as angsty as the summary suggests, i promise! just a lil introduction of charlie to the band

Nobody tells Charlie about the hidden tension between them, but he figures it out soon enough. He can feel it as soon as he plays his first show, though the nerves are enough to distract him from the evidence that plays out in front of him. Instead, he learns that Kyle barely moves when he plays, stands hunched over the keys so he doesn’t make a mistake. He learns that Woody is quite nice, and seems to be the most accepting of him at the beginning of the tour. He learns that with Will, there’s more than meets the eye, and though he doesn’t speak much he seems to at least not hate his band’s newest member.

And then there’s Dan. The guy’s, well, _hard to keep up with_ , to say the least. On stage, he’s impossible to track, and Charlie loses count of the times he successfully distracts him from fixing his fingering on the guitar neck. 

Off stage, he’s either talking a mile a minute or strangely withdrawn, staring off into space or his phone screen with an indescribable look on his face. The rest of the band teases him about it, waving a hand in front of the phone or slapping him gently upside the head as they walk by. Charlie just sits and watches it all with a growing feeling of apprehension. They’re a family, have been for five years before he showed up out of the blue. He’s like the adopted child- no, the new stepdad- looking for validation in a new family that doesn’t need him.

They do _want_ him, he tries to remember, as he’s invited out for drinks with the rest of the crew after the show. He repeats it to himself as he follows them into the bar, already trailing behind in the conversation after the first round of beers. It’s mostly Kyle, whose animated hand gestures nearly knock Charlie’s glass over multiple times, that keeps the table from lapsing into silence.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Dan who (figuratively) leaves first. Charlie looks up after his second drink and catches a glimpse of light from a phone from across the table. The blue glow highlights the circles under the singer’s eyes, further proving Charlie's early assumption that the man lived on coffee instead of sleep. Charlie takes it as his cue to pull out his own phone, which surprises him with a rare amount of notifications.

He replies back to several friends congratulating him on the first gig with the band, smiling a little when he reads that some of them have already searched for video footage from the day. He finds that Instagram and Twitter are the sources of the other notifications, and he stares in disbelief at the amount of followers he’s gained in the past few hours. People really love this band, and its four members. Despite the rising numbers on the screen, he finds himself wondering whether they’ll consider him one of them- or whether he’d _like_ them to. It’s a scary thought, and he nearly shuts his phone off when it pops into his head. _It’s too early to be thinking about that now. It’s only been one show, you idiot._

His phone buzzes, and he blinks as his follower count jumps again. Dan’s just posted [a photo of the five of them](https://www.instagram.com/p/3hrUR9TAQ5/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link), taken earlier that day. He’s sandwiched between Kyle and Dan, looking (fortunately) _much_ less awkward than he’d felt when the photographer had ushered them together before the show.

He looks up, expecting to see Dan’s dark hair fanned out and hanging over the table again, but instead he’s greeted with the man’s eyes, which look more black than blue in the dim lighting. Charlie offers him a quick smile, a _thank you_ for posting the photo even if he’d been expecting it all day.

“It was a good show today,” Dan says quietly, still staring at Charlie, who struggles to hear him over Woody’s laughter at whatever outrageous story Kyle’s currently telling. Dan seems like he wants to say something else, and Charlie waits expectantly. It’s not like Dan’s never talked to him or anything, but it feels strange, suddenly, to be talking over beers and staring at each other for so long. _It’s the alcohol_ , Charlie reasons, pushing his near-empty glass away slightly. The last thing he wants is to get blackout drunk on the first night of festival season- not that he would be anywhere past normal-drunk after three beers.

He misses the way Dan glances over at Kyle, and the next time he looks up, Dan’s back on his phone again. Charlie sighs and picks up his beer again anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regular updates will almost definitely NOT be a thing, but I didn't feel like leaving the first part out there without at least a _little_ bit of actual writing sooo hope you like :)


	3. Chapter 3

Dan tells himself he hasn’t been watching Charlie, tries to prove that Kyle was wrong about the whole thing. 

But it’s _Kyle_ , and of _course_ he’s right, and Dan hates it.

As the festival season drags on, dragging them across Europe with it, Charlie eases into the routine of touring even faster than the rest of the band had anticipated. They rehearse with keys, guitars, basses, drums, a cymbal even, and he goes right along with it without hesitation. His backing vocals are exactly what some of the songs had been missing live, Dan realizes as he sings along with them.

He _fits_ , just as he’d hoped.

Obviously, not everything is perfect. Drumsticks go missing and instruments aren’t tuned correctly and the sound guy is _useless_ as usual and a stray water bottle very nearly ruins a perfectly good keyboard, but what else is new? If touring was easy, they wouldn’t have needed a fifth member to begin with.

With five of them now in the group, each with their own specific equipment, it’s a learning curve trying to get everything in the right place at the right time. But they get it together after the first few shows, and it’s almost like Charlie’s been with them for much longer than he has been. Dan watches in amazement as the man gets comfortable enough to open up to them, both on and off the stage. His stage presence is finally one that rivals Dan’s, and the constant movement of his dancing easily distracts Dan from whatever song he happens to be singing. 

(Kyle calls it _crazy_ , Woody just laughs at it, but Dan’s started referring to it as simply _Charlie_ in his head. It reminds him of himself on stage, except Charlie doesn’t look stupid doing it like he does. Dan might be just a _little_ bit jealous of that.)

So yeah, Kyle was right. He _is_ watching Charlie. But not at all how he’d expected.

* * *

In the blink of an eye, festival season is coming to an end. It’s June, and they’re in Switzerland, and Charlie’s praying that his memory from rehearsal will be enough to help him not fuck up _too_ badly, and then it’s August and he’s casually playing the main stage at _fucking Reading and Leeds_ and then it’s over.

It’s been a full two months of shows all over the world, and he’s _exhausted_. He knows he’s not alone, even amongst his more experienced bandmates, and he can feel when the air around them changes from excitement about playing to relief that it’s almost over.

They wrap up in Germany, and even after the Lollapalooza set it still hasn’t sunk in that they’re _done_. They all go for celebratory drinks, and the difference between that night and his first ever in Switzerland gives him whiplash. This time, Will throws an arm around him and laughs in his ear as the five of them recount all the stupid things they’d done in their venture around the world, and Woody buys him a glass of some strong alcohol he doesn’t remember the name of in the morning when he starts talking about [the night the drummer had to be taken to the hospital in Poland](https://www.instagram.com/p/39w__LzAd4/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link).

Dan and Charlie sit next to each other this time, and Charlie isn’t surprised when he recreates his facial expressions from the time [they got stuck on that roller coaster by Lowlands](https://www.instagram.com/p/6sVL9HTAYv/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) and Dan ends up laughing for two minutes until he’s nearly in tears. His whole body shakes when he laughs, curls in on itself, and Charlie laughs along and tries to stop them both from knocking their own glasses over.

For some reason, the whole band finds Charlie’s bursts of high-pitched laughter highly amusing (he hates it until he has enough alcohol in his system) but it’s Dan especially who’s set off by it again for another five minutes, until he has to take a couple deep breaths to stop his abdomen from shaking.

They stay longer than they should, probably, knowing there’s a flight to catch to London the next morning. But even though they don’t talk about it, the unspoken words hang heavy around the sticky wooden table.

After tonight, there won’t be another night like this for a while.

It’s what subdues Charlie first, because unlike them, he _won’t_ be texting and calling and meeting up for drinks with the band. While they hang out and laugh and meet in the studio to record demos, Charlie will be back in his own flat, with his own friends and his own band.

The sound of that doesn’t make him as happy as he’d imagined in June, and so he stops laughing along with Dan and Will, and stares at a tic-tac-toe game someone’s carved into the shiny wood of the table until it blurs and the rest of the band decides they’re drunk enough to head to bed for the night.

Charlie follows them out, trailing behind once again, and wonders where he’s supposed to go from here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The five of them and the crew look like they’ve been run over by their own plane by the time they land in Heathrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently i lied about not posting regularly OOPS hope you like it :) also peep the lil title change

The five of them and the crew look like they’ve been run over by their own plane by the time they land in Heathrow. They’re quick to load up with more coffees, though Charlie isn’t sure if any amount of caffeine will keep him from passing out before he gets home. He doesn’t know how Dan does it- or the rest of the band, for that matter, but Dan especially looks shockingly put together compared to them. He’s wearing a gray jacket and his glasses, and the top of his normally-vertical hair flops onto his forehead as if it’s just as exhausted as he is; and yet somehow, though Charlie’s now seen what he’s like in real life, 24 hours a day, he suddenly understands the masses of girls at the barricade who shriek louder than anything when the singer comes within five feet of them.

_Least they have taste,_ he thinks to himself. _They should see him when he wakes up in the morning. They’d probably pass out on the spot._ He blinks, too tired to dwell on the thoughts as he reaches for his coffee. Dan glances up at him as if he’d been reading his thoughts, and Charlie very nearly chokes on his next sip.

“So,” Dan says slowly, picking at the cardboard sleeve around his drink. “Must be nice to be home again.”

Charlie swallows. “Um.” How the fuck is he supposed to answer that?

“Uh, I mean,” he shrugs. “It’ll be good to get a decent night’s sleep for once.” Dan nods and pushes his glasses up his nose.

“And you?” Charlie ventures when Dan doesn’t continue.

“I doubt I’ll sleep when I’m home, either,” he says in a huff after a moment of silence, lifting his cup and draining the rest of his coffee. Charlie picks up his own cup, still half-full, and shakes his head in bewilderment. 

“Why not?”

“I dunno. Too many ideas, I guess. Too many things in my head.”

Charlie nods. He knows how that feels.

“Happens to me too, sometimes,” he says. “Some of my best music came from 2am writing sessions, you know.”

Dan quirks an eyebrow, looking genuinely relieved as he looks up at the guitarist. “Yeah? Mine too. I’m sure my neighbors all hate me.”

Charlie smiles. “Mine too. They’re lucky the idea for “Macbeth” didn’t come to me until noon.”

Dan laughs, and then he gets up and tosses his cup away, leaving Charlie to stare after him until Kyle walks by and shoves him in the shoulder, yelling “Get a move on, mini-Kyle!”

* * *

The first thing Dan does when he gets into his cab is put in earbuds and look up Charlie’s album. The cabbie gives him a weird look when Dan starts cackling in the backseat after ["MacbethMacbethMacbeth"](https://youtu.be/qu6jzDyGJ4I) comes on, and Dan isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to look at the shorter man the same.

* * *

  
  


The flat hasn’t changed a bit since the day Charlie rushed out of it with all his basic possessions shoved into a single suitcase. He tries to busy himself with unpacking for the first few days, but there’s only so much time he can waste before his clothes are in the laundry and the one chronically-dying houseplant in the kitchen has been watered and he’s sitting on the couch, wondering whether he should start another band.

His friends, to their credit, call and text him about hanging out before he’s even back in his apartment. He brushes them off for a few days, claiming a bad hangover and terrible jet lag (which aren’t lies at all) until he realizes he’s being an idiot and calls them all back.

They all ask how he is, over coffee (decaf, on Charlie’s end, despite the headache that follows him for four days after tour), ask him how “his new friends” are doing, ask embarrassing questions about the members of the band ( **_no_ ** , _I don’t know what Dan looks like shirtless?! Why the fuck would I?_ ), and it’s the weirdest week he’s ever had.

It’s not like he’s just come back from a stint with Queen, or Beyoncé. He’s not _famous_ now. He just _happens_ to be performing with one of the UK’s most popular bands of the past few years; of course it’s what all his friends want to talk about. He’s finally _made it_ , in their eyes.

So why, then, does it grate on his nerves so much? The jokes about Dan and his stupidly iconic hair, or the nickname “Mini-Kyle” he was gifted with before he shaved his beard, or [all](https://www.instagram.com/p/5yeKDcTAbh/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) [the](https://www.instagram.com/p/6uZ1_dTAYX/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) [photos](https://www.instagram.com/p/315WQqTAce/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) Dan has posted online of him with the group?

It’s ridiculous to think that he’s “one of them” now, or that he knows them- like, _really_ knows them. So why does he feel like he knows them better than his own friends?

He ponders this when he’s alone again in his flat, and eventually he figures it out. It’s _tour_ he misses, a feeling he can really only share with the ones he shares the stage with. Even his musician-friends don’t get it-- they’re all like he was before, desperately trying to get his name out there and play music for more than five people at a time.

It shocks him that he misses it that much, honestly. It was gross and hot and sweaty and awkward, and yet he’s already feeling like it’s a normal part of his life. 

He’s not a _part_ of Bastille, he reminds himself over and over. He’s the extra man in the back, playing guitar and singing harmonies when they need them, and then he goes home to his empty flat until they need him to do it all over again.

  
  


Maybe, he muses, not wanting to encourage the thought, it’s just been far too long since he was really needed by anybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus: _[this](https://youtu.be/AN4Cdk0R-t4)_ is what charlie sounded like recording that song...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes three days before Dan breaks and texts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! this fic is DONE. completely finished! i'm still in shock!!  
> if you're subscribed to this fic i recommend you unsubscribe to avoid all the notifications because i'm just gonna go right ahead and post the rest of it now. because i'm just chaotic like that. you're welcome.

It takes three days before Dan breaks and texts him. Two of those days are spent sleeping, as his two-month-long caffeine high finally crashes and he stays in his bed until he physically can’t take it anymore.

It’s not like he’s expecting anything from the man, he tells himself. He’s just bored, and in that self-destructive state of mind where he’d rather let his ex yell at him again than wait in silence.

_Hi._

He heaves himself out of bed, ignoring the time on the clock as he brews himself a cup of coffee. A _normal_ cup, not like the bitter espresso-laden monstrosities he’d downed in Europe in place of sleep.

It hadn’t been a lie when he’d told Charlie he couldn’t sleep on tour, but the rest of the band knew that he wasn’t _that_ bad. This tour...this one was different, and it wasn’t because of the newest addition to the group. 

The phone doesn’t buzz until he’s sitting at the kitchen table, waiting on the coffee to alleviate the withdrawal headache pounding at his skull.

**_Thought you’d still be sleeping._ **

As usual, he knows him too well. He’d witnessed it firsthand, and hadn’t he been the one to finally drag Dan out from beneath the covers after the last tour?

_Have been_

_It’s harder now_

**_So it’s “make me feel bad” time already, huh?_ **

  
  


_Fuck_ , he’s already messing this up.

  
  


_No_

_Sorry_

_I didn’t mean it like that_

**_What the fuck am I supposed to say to that then_ **

_I miss you_

Dan deletes the text as soon as he realizes he’s typing it. 

_I don’t know. I’m sorry_

**_Maybe you should go back to bed then mate_ **

He stares at that, hopelessly trying to glean any semblance of affection from the short message. _At least he cares, right?_

_I don’t think that’s the problem_

**_Well then I think you should figure out what *is*_ **

**_and deal with it instead of texting me about it_ **

_That’s just it, though_ , Dan thinks miserably as he tosses the phone on the table with a thump. **_You’re_ ** _my problem._

* * *

The sun has barely risen when Charlie blinks awake. He lays there a moment, staring at the wall, completely still, just watching dust motes float around in the early morning light. It’s less poetic than it sounds; the blinds on his window have been broken since he moved in, and with the exception of the past few days, he’s up with the sun every morning. It seems the jet lag has finally worn off.

Also, when did his flat get so fucking dusty?

He rolls over soon enough to grab his phone off the nightstand, confused when there’s a message from a few hours ago.

**_Hi_ ** **.**

It’s from Dan.

_Hi_ , he texts back as he’s brushing his teeth. He wipes his beard with the hand towel and hears a buzz from the counter.

**_Hi_ **

**_Again_ **

A soft laugh escapes him as he picks up his phone. _What a dork_.

_Why were you up so early?_

_Got the next smash hit from Bastille in the works?_

_Bet you do_

_I’m only up because my fuckin blinds are broken_

He reads over his messages and groans. How can one person be so _horrible_ at texting? He taps out an apology, then deletes it. _Yeah, sure, Charlie, apologize for four texts with yet another text. Genius._

They sit on _Delivered_ for a moment, and he finds himself growing strangely antsy as he goes into the kitchen for some toast. Why did Dan text him in the middle of the night, anyway? Better yet, why is he texting him at all?

_Lonely_ , his brain supplies out of nowhere, but Charlie dismisses it with a scoff. _Dan_ _Smith_ , **_lonely?_** _Think you’re thinking of the wrong person, mate._

His phone buzzes as he drops the bread into the toaster.

**_Not this time, unfortunately_ **

**_Though maybe that would help_ **

_Why?_

**_You know, they say writing music based on personal shit helps you deal with it_ **

_Do you believe that?_

**_Not at all_ **

_Haha_

_sometimes it does for me, it depends_

_I thought you didn’t write about personal things?_

Charlie knows he’s crossed a line when the texts stop, and he curses under his breath as he grabs the jam from the fridge. By the time he’s back at his phone, his notifications are still distressingly blank.

_Shit_ . _Way to go, Charlie._ He sits at the counter and reads back the messages again. What did he say? _Dan’s the one who mentioned personal shit in the first place, why say it if he didn’t want to talk about it? God, why did I ask so many questions, I sound like a fucking stalker-_

His leg is bouncing anxiously and he squeezes it with a hand in an attempt to get it to stop. 

**_Sorry_ ** . The text comes in an hour later, just when Charlie’s debating whether he can put off doing groceries for another day or two. **_Had to go for a bit_ ** **.**

_It’s okay!_ Charlie lies.

_I know you’re probably already busy with all sorts of stuff_

**_That’s debatable...more like I just have the worst time-keeping skills of anybody ever_ **

Charlie shakes his head, feeling dumb. Dan probably just forgot to respond to him, that’s all. Everyone knows he’s always late to everything, even his own shows.

_And here I was thinking you just hated soundcheck_

A laughing emoji. Charlie smiles at it, the tension seeping out of his shoulders. His leg had stopped its bouncing at some point during their conversation, and he stretches it out gratefully. 

He waits a minute, and when he doesn’t get anything else from Dan he shrugs and slips his phone in his pocket. Guess he might as well go shopping, after all.

* * *

He’d almost done it. 

He’d almost told Charlie the one thing his _closest friends_ didn’t even know. 

_Fucking hell_. 

What was he _thinking_ , telling him about ‘personal shit’? And then fucking _ghosting the guy_ for an hour because he didn’t know what to say? God, he’s an idiot.

He groans and drops his head into his hand. Despite his awkwardness, they’d actually been off to a decent start before he messed it all up.

Dan’s not sure whether he should’ve expected that Charlie was such an... _enthusiastic_ texter, and he finds himself strangely overwhelmed by the amount of messages, though he can’t help but find it _slightly_ endearing.

He shoots back an emoji- a rare thing for him to do, but the only thing he can think that would come close to matching the other man’s energy over text- and sags against the couch.

  
 _See?_ A nagging voice drawls in the back of his head. _Not every conversation has to be a fight. You always just make it one._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer drifts into fall with a soft sigh...

Summer drifts into fall with a soft sigh, and Charlie loses track of the days he spends in his flat or out with a friend or in a cafe writing lyrics. He puts out even more promo for his album, watches as the streams climb higher every day in front of his eyes. He ships albums and merch to new fans with triangle logos in their Instagram profile pictures and _Bad Blood_ lyrics in their Twitter bios. A part of him feels weird about it, at first, but his friends convince him that he would’ve _killed_ for that kind of exposure before, any of them would, so he takes a breath and goes with it.

It feels like he’s barely been home for two weeks before he’s packing up again in October, and then again in November, for a handful of his own shows. It’s the most he’s booked since 2013, and it’s _loads_ of fun. It’s smaller, more intimate like he’s used to, a breath of fresh air after the crowded festivals of the summer. He spots some people in his tee shirt designs, a few others in lovely handmade merch that he makes an effort to seek out and sign after the show, and the expected newer group sporting a familiar-looking logo in the small crowd. He meets them all, smiles and takes photos and sells merch, and suddenly, it’s about _Charlie Barnes_ again.

They ask him about what it’s like to tour with Bastille, tell him what their favorite song on _More Stately Mansions_ is. They even buy a few copies of _Geekk_ , though he makes them reluctantly promise not to share it with the world.

He floats through the weeks until it’s almost December, and everything snaps back into focus when he realizes he’s due back for a month of winter shows with the band. He’s cursing his own faulty time-management skills as he packs up the day before he needs to leave, and soon enough he’s flying into New York with the band like they’d never separated.

They all look exactly the same, albeit slightly more rested from the past few weeks of being at home. Charlie slots back into his role with ease, laughing with the rest of them when Woody throws a towel at Dan during soundcheck and when Will nearly faceplants on his way off the stage after the first show. 

He’s infected by the energy again, and it’s like a switch has flipped back on. Where his songs are soulful and laden with personal metaphors, Bastille’s are loud and full of percussion and an all-consuming bass that drowns out all the thoughts in his head. There’s a pressure lifted when it’s not him they’re looking at, when it’s not his words and thoughts he’s singing. This time, he’s not held back by the fear of rejection or mistakes, but instead encouraged by the screaming fans that reach for him when he ventures to the front of the stage.

He hopes he’s not the only one who feels the newfound chemistry, when Kyle turns to play the drum next to him and blows him a kiss when they make eye contact, or when he pounds his own drum to the same beat as Woody and the long-haired man headbangs along with him. Or when Dan, during a random moment of “Icarus”, drifts over to him and they have a moment of just the two of them, Dan doing his jump-dancing and Charlie swaying in rhythm with his guitar.

The fear in the back of his head that it’s just for show, for stage presence, slinks away as the last strains of “Pompeii” echo around the arena and he finds himself surrounded by all four of them as they swarm off the stage.

“Nice one!” Kyle thumps Charlie on the back good-naturedly as he passes him, and Charlie shoots him a wide grin before someone else comes up behind him and does the same with slightly less momentum.

A little _oof_ escapes him at the unexpected attack, but when he turns around and sees a smiling, sweaty Dan, he suddenly doesn’t really seem to mind.

“You did _awesome_ , mate! Glad to be back, eh?” 

“Yeah,” Charlie says, too distracted by the fact that unlike Kyle’s, Dan’s hand lingers for a moment, spreading heat through his already-sweaty shoulder. He wipes his face with the towel he’s holding. It’s hard for him to remember it’s December during shows like this.

Dan gives him a weird look when Charlie isn’t as enthusiastic as he’d expected. He pulls his hand back and wipes it self-consciously on his pant leg, and Charlie flashes him an awkward smile as they go to join the rest of the band.

As comfortable as he’s getting with the band, he still finds himself growing almost unbearably awkward at times. It happens whenever they get off stage, when they’re on the tour bus or in a bar or backstage at a venue.

He shakes it off easily enough, but he realizes soon enough what’s causing it.

He’s a light sleeper on the tour bus. One night, as he’s perched on the edge of his bed to escape the confines of the tiny nook, Dan (ever the insomniac) tumbles bleary-eyed out of the bunk above him and nearly whacks Charlie in the face in the process.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face and stumbling off towards the bathroom.

“It’s fine,” Charlie says quietly to the singer’s back as he walks away. The back...that doesn’t currently have a shirt on it. Oh.

_Oh._

Maybe _that’s_ his problem.

_Oh_ **_no_ ** _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'oh shit' moment 1 out of 2= done


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s never _had_ a problem with his sexuality before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a short one, just a little extension to the 'oh shit' moment bc we all know that's the good shit

He’s never _had_ a problem with his sexuality before. Sure, he’d figured it out rather belatedly, but he’d done it, and it had never been a _problem_ in the past.

It had never been someone like _this_.

Charlie’s still staring into space (really, the curtains in front of Will’s bunk) when the bathroom door opens and Dan steps out again.

He was just caught off guard before, Charlie reasons. If Will or Woody or Kyle had appeared in front of him without clothes on, he’d be just as surprised, right? It doesn’t mean anything that it’s Dan. Still, he keeps his eyes fixed on the curtains until Dan appears in his peripheral vision, looking slightly more awake this time.

And still very, very shirtless.

_Fuck._

“Hey,” Dan says, staring at him curiously. “Everything alright?”

“Hmm? Yep.” Charlie wishes he could say he’s shocked at how normal his voice seems, but he can’t, because the words come out in a hoarse whisper, and he immediately flushes. He clears his throat. “Yep, yeah, I’m fine.”  
  


“Can’t sleep, though.” Dan states the obvious, still standing in the narrow space wearing only a pair of sweatpants. “Me neither.”

Charlie forces himself to look at Dan, pointedly looking at his hair- his dark, wavy, unkempt, fucking _gorgeous_ hair- which doesn’t work at _all_. He coughs and shakes his head. Dan glances down at his bare chest and crosses his arms self-consciously. _Fuck, I’m making it weird_. _He thinks I’ve been staring._

It doesn’t help that his eyes unconsciously follow the movement of Dan’s arms ( _oh NO, he has nice arms too_ ) and he _does_ end up staring at bare skin and oh god he’s _so fucked_.

Dan shifts. “Sorry,” he says, stepping closer to Charlie. Charlie’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to ask, to explain, to say _something_ \- but Dan just reaches up and digs through the pile of blankets on his bed until he pulls out a black tee shirt and slips it over his head.

Charlie still feels strangely lightheaded when Dan turns to look at him again, forehead creased into a concerned frown.

“Get some sleep, yeah? Long day tomorrow.”

Charlie nods, and Dan disappears back into his bunk.

He doesn’t sleep.

* * *

He spends _days_ like that, drinking enough coffee to rival Dan’s addiction and constantly feeling on-edge from the caffeine. But it would be too obvious if he were to switch bunks after that night, so he lays there, far after everyone else has started snoring, stares at the ceiling a foot away from his face, and thinks.

He’s had crushes before. He’s dated occasionally. Neither have ever worked out for very long.

And this? This is not a good idea. This is perhaps the _worst_ thing that could have happened to him. He almost wishes Dan was an asshole, so there would be something, _anything_ to convince his brain not to go down this path.

But there’s just _nothing_ wrong with the guy. He’s brilliant, and kind, and talented, and humble, and so bloody _attractive_ with that stupid hair and those dumb tee shirts and nerdy glasses, and Charlie doesn’t know what to do with himself. Surely he could find Dan attractive without liking him like _that_ ; hell, he’s _far_ from the first person to comment on the guy’s looks.

But he thinks back to all the texts they sent back and forth during the fall, to the moments and small casual touches they share on and off the stage, to the way his heart stutters in his chest when Dan’s name lights up on his phone screen, and he knows it’s not like that.

So Charlie lays there in the dark, staring up into the blankness, hyper-aware of Dan’s body lying mere inches away from him, but still miles out of his reach.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan doesn’t text his ex at all during this tour, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s taking a step forward instead of falling all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, you wanted a dan 'oh shit' moment too? coming right up.

Dan doesn’t text his ex at all during this tour, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s taking a step forward instead of falling all over again. It’s somehow easier to forget about him when he’s doing shows, which is the most paradoxical thing he could even _imagine_ , but it’s somehow true.

How is it that he can sing to thousands of people _every night_ about the person he used to be so in love with? He hadn’t been lying to Charlie when he’d told him he didn’t believe that writing personal stories into songs would help him deal with it. And yet he couldn’t seem to stop doing it. 

And because he’d been a lovestruck _idiot_ , he’d made those fucking songs _popular_ , and now he sings about love and oblivion, and people _love it_ and scream the words and get _tattoos_ of it, and they have absolutely no idea how much it hurts him.

He’s singing those songs about nobody, now. And the only thing that makes it okay, really (but also so, _so_ much worse), is the fact that everyone _else_ seems to know what he’s talking about. It’s a complicated thing, being in love, but it sounds simple enough in writing. He sings his songs, pours his heart out about being close to the ones you love, pretends it isn’t personal because it _matters_ to the people who care to listen to his shit.

So he goes through the setlist every night, and he sings about volcanoes and snakes, and he writes new verses about anchors and holding people close in the notes of his phone, and he can almost, _almost_ , forget that his own love songs don’t apply to him anymore.

* * *

And then, slowly, it doesn’t matter anymore. After shows, he goes and drinks away his thoughts with Charlie and Woody and Will and Kyle and laughs like he’s normal. He starts texting Charlie more, warming up to him after his initial awkwardness over the phone. It’s stupid of him to do so when they share a tour bus and most of their hours already, but it seems to be the easiest way of communication.

He texts Charlie from his bunk, knowing the other man is only a foot beneath him. They talk music, lyrics, things they have in common. It’s easy, too easy, for them to develop daily conversations that last late into the night and early into the morning. Without even thinking about it, Dan now finds himself tapping into Charlie’s contact instead of Kyle’s, and though he feels a little guilty about it, knows he’s been distant from his best friend recently, he can’t help it.

With his new friend, they don’t talk about relationships or what went wrong with Dan’s. There’s no arguing, no tension. Just talking. It’s what Dan’s needed for quite some time, and he dives into it headfirst without thinking.

But suddenly, inevitably, he finds himself sinking under, drowning.

He’s drowning. In Charlie.

The thoughts swarm his head every day- their conversations both over text and in real life, the way Charlie laughs at him when he dances awkwardly on stage, but it doesn’t feel like he’s laughing _at_ him. The way Charlie dances, himself, a million times better than Dan ever could, swaying behind the keyboard and jumping up and down with his guitar to the beat. The way they have their little moments, sometimes, without thinking anything of it. The way he notices Charlie’s tattoo on his arm, asks to see it and marvels at the little details even as the other man flushes pink under the scrutiny.

The way Charlie looks at him like he actually _sees_ him, talks to him like he already knows everything there is to know about him. The way he doesn’t pry for secrets but seems so genuinely interested in Dan’s ramblings that Dan can’t help but tell him anyways.

There’s only one other time this has happened to Dan, but he knows it’s happening again.

He’s breaking his only rule- far, _far_ too soon- and falling for Charlie Barnes.

* * *

Unlike last time, though, he knows it’s not a two-way street. Last time had been easy, too easy- he’d fallen in love with someone close to him, someone he’d known for years. Someone who’d made the first move because he was too self-conscious, too terrified to do it himself.

Charlie’s the last person who would fall for a guy like him, he knows that. It doesn’t stop Dan from letting the waves of his newfound obsession with the man crash over him unbearably fast, but it at least quells the idea in his brain that he might one day tell him his feelings.

Even if (and it’s a big _if_ ) Charlie was attracted to men, he definitely isn’t attracted to _him_. He confirms that for sure the night he accidentally appears, shirtless, in front of the guy. His friend wouldn’t even _look_ at him, barely even spoke to him. The logical part of his brain tries to justify it- _it was an awkward situation! It was the middle of the night, he must’ve been tired…_

But Dan Smith isn’t really one for logic, after all. So, naturally, he concludes that Charlie Barnes is either straight or simply has no interest in Dan’s looks in particular. _Can’t say I blame the guy. I mean...look at_ **_him_** _._

It doesn’t stop him, however, from sneaking looks at him whenever he gets the chance, and immediately feeling bad about it. It feels weird like this, as friends and bandmates, to be allowed to look at Charlie all the time and know that the guitarist has _absolutely_ no idea how Dan _really_ wants to look at him.

But he _can’t_. Not on this tour, not ever. Whatever happens, whatever he might feel...he can’t lose his band. And he can’t lose Charlie.

* * *

Years ago, when their original four had formed the band in 2010, they’d had one, simple rule. It was a joke, at first, one night when they were sitting around a table in a dingy bar discussing the logistics of a band over pints.

The rule had made sense, at the time. If they wanted the band to work, without self-destructing after the first few shows, they couldn’t have that kind of disruption.

When Dan finally got the balls to come out to the three of them the next year, it was suddenly much, much less of a joking matter.

_Whatever happens,_ **_don’t_ ** _date another member of the band._

They should’ve remembered- Dan’s always been impressively terrible at following rules.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the 15th of December, their second-to-last date of the mini-tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a chapter without ANY line breaks?? who IS SHE.

It’s the 15th of December, their second-to-last date of the mini-tour. To Dan, it’s felt like much longer than three weeks. They’re sitting in the greenroom, already mic’d up for the show and sitting in a companionable silence.

  
At least, Dan thinks so, until Kyle suddenly says, “This is boring,” and makes everyone look up from their phones. Charlie snorts at a photo Dan’s just sent him, then clears his throat and turns his phone over hurriedly when everyone looks at him.

“I’m sorry,” Will says drily. “Would you rather we play Truth or Dare and foosball until the show instead of sending each other memes from two feet away?”

“He wasn’t sending me a meme,” Charlie mutters, embarrassed. Kyle rolls his eyes.

“A dick pic, then. Would explain the laugh.” Woody and Will laugh, Charlie just looks plain traumatized, and Dan feels something twist in his gut like he’s being stabbed. He rolls his eyes belatedly when Kyle flashes him a look, playing it off as nonchalantly as possible.

“Can’t say I’ve _never_ laughed at one of those before,” Charlie admits with a chuckle.

It’s only when they all turn to him, suddenly _very_ intrigued, that he opens his mouth in an _O_ and says after a moment, “Oh."

"Oh?" Kyle prods, waggling his eyebrows.

"I guess I...never mentioned that, then?” Charlie says in a small voice.

They all shake their heads, and Dan pretends not to be holding his breath in excitement. _It doesn't matter, you idiot, it doesn't change anything._

But then it does, because Charlie shrugs and says “Oh. Sorry. I’m pan,” and Dan thinks he stops breathing for a moment.

Will opens his mouth to say something, and Charlie shoots him a look and adds, “No jokes, Will.”

“I wasn’t gonna-!”

“We _all_ knew you were,” Kyle shoots back lightheartedly. “God, the puns when _I_ came out were enough. Leave the poor guy alone for five minutes, will ya?”

Dan notices Charlie’s raised eyebrows and clears his throat. “He’s bi. Same, actually- probably closer to gay at this point, though.” _Not that that matters to you._

“Jesus,” Woody laughs, shaking his head. “I nearly forgot about that. Is anyone straight in this band anymore?”

“Oh, _trust_ me.” Will holds up his hands in defense. “Can't say I’ve never received an unsolicited dick pic in my life, but…” he shudders, “ _not_ my thing.” 

They all laugh nervously, all of their minds going to...not-greenroom-appropriate memories. There’s a sudden return to the silence in the room. 

“Well,” Woody says with a clap of his hands, attempting to break the new tension, “All I care about is, nobody better be fuckin’ in the tour bus. You know the rule.”

_Fuck_. Dan’s eyes flick to Charlie and Kyle before he can stop them, and he can feel his face heating up.

“What rule?” Charlie asks hesitantly, and Dan prays that nobody had seen his wandering eyes.

“No dating band members,” Dan replies quietly. Charlie nods slowly.

“Ah.” He pauses, then grins awkwardly. “Good thing I’m not a member of the band, then, eh?”

“Aha!” Kyle exclaims, pointing at the guitarist exaggeratedly. “A loophole! Do we have to kick him out before he seduces us all, now?”

He’s joking, of course, but Dan immediately winces.

“We wouldn't kick him out, Kyle! Of course not. He's basically a part of the band at this point, right?”

The hesitation from his three friends feels like a stab in the chest. _Fuck_ , he’s made it worse. 

“Y-yeah,” Kyle says, too late. He winces and glances over at Charlie. “I mean, it’s only been a few months, Dan, but yeah, we like him.”

“Yeah,” Will says quickly, at the same time as Woody exclaims, “Yeah, Kyle was just messing about, Charlie! Of course we like having you around.”

The man smiles, but Dan sees right through it. _Fuck_. _Fuckfuckfuck._

“Yeah,” Charlie says lightly. “Kyle’s right, it’s only been a few months.” He shakes his head. “I know I’m just the touring dude, guys. No hard feelings.”

Dan looks around, sees that everyone else seems to be convinced by Charlie’s words. _How can they be so stupid? Do they have eyes?_

_Well yeah_ , he realizes with a sigh. _They just don’t look at him like I do._

It hits him then, with a sinking feeling, that neither does Charlie.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The show goes on as normal, but Dan can tell Charlie hasn’t shaken the band’s reaction from earlier.

The show goes on as normal, but Dan can tell Charlie hasn’t shaken the band’s reaction from earlier. He’s not as... _bouncy_ as usual, won’t look at Dan unless he walks over to the keyboard and sings in his face. Even then, his smile is forced, and the longer it goes on, the shittier Dan feels.

He tries to catch up with him after the show, but it’s nearly the last night of the tour and nobody wants to sit around and talk. They find themselves in an obnoxiously loud bar- they’re in Vegas, after all- and there’s no chance to say anything over the music.

So they drink, and Charlie and Dan stay attached to their phones after the second round, Dan typing out dozens of texts to the other man that he never sends. He ends up with a lame _you okay?_ that Charlie responds to with _yeah, just tired_ , and gives up.

And then, in a moment of weakness, he texts his ex.

_You were always stronger than I was._

_How did you get over it?_

He doesn’t get a response until they’re back on the tour bus and he’s clambering into his bunk, finally relieved to be escaping the world for a few hours even if sleep stays out of his grasp.

**_Is that a song lyric?_ **

**_Sounds like it_ **

**_Could be a good one_ **

Dan rolls his eyes, but when he blinks awake at 2am, he thinks _fuck it, he’s right. He’s always right_.

He files it away for later, a short scrawl on a hidden note in his phone. It’s too raw to write fully about right now, something he won’t be able to _think_ about singing live for years (or possibly ever), but it gets it out of his head for now.

_You showed me a good lesson in love._

* * *

  
  


Unbeknownst to Dan, he’s not the only insomniac that night. Beneath him, Charlie flips over (or attempts to- all he manages to do is tangle his legs further into the blankets) and stares at the dim light leaking through the curtain. 

They won’t stop swarming around his brain, all his stupid, _stupid_ thoughts and hopes and doubts. 

There’s a new thought in his head, now, one that he singles out and peers at from every angle. It’s built from their greenroom conversation earlier, from the moment he’d looked at Dan at exactly the wrong time and caught him staring at Kyle.

He wants to throw the dumb thing away, bury it in his mind and never think about it again, but he can’t. It sits there, taunting him, making him feel like even more of an idiot than before.

_What if Dan's in love with Kyle?_

It makes sense- Dan’s bi, after all, or attracted to men at least. Kyle’s his best friend, has been for a long time. Would Charlie have noticed if Dan was acting different around him?

_Probably_ , he admits begrudgingly. _You never take your eyes off the guy._

He’s sick of the thoughts, so he bins them and pushes the curtain aside. He needs some air.

Unfortunately, so does Dan.

“Oh,” he says lamely, when he steps outside in a jacket and sees someone’s already beaten him out of the bus. They’re at a rest stop somewhere between Vegas and Missouri, and the driver’s left a note on the door- _gotta take a piss, back in 5_.

Dan turns and gives him a soft smile. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Nah,” Charlie says, joining his friend against the side of the tour bus. “It’s fucking _freezing_ out here.”

“Should’ve worn a coat, then.” 

Charlie eyes Dan’s ever-present denim jacket and sweatpant combination and scoffs. “And _you_ should take your own advice, mate.” 

Dan looks down at himself and shrugs. “Touché.”

They stand there a moment, looking out at the dark stretch of pavement and the lights of the highway that flash by beyond it.

“What are you going to do after all this?” Charlie asks without looking at Dan. He can feel the singer’s eyes on him.

“What do you mean?”

“After the tour.”

“Oh.” Dan shrugs, and Charlie catches it in his peripheral vision. “Same as always, I guess. Don’t have any shows ‘til April, so I’ll finish up some demos, keep writing, go to the studio…” he trails off. “You got any more shows?”

“Nope. Nothing yet.”

“Shame,” Dan remarks. “I would’ve gone.”

Finally, Charlie looks over. “Really?”

“Obviously.” Dan looks surprised. “Why wouldn’t I? I told you I would’ve gone to the last tour if you’d played around London.”

“Yeah, but…” He struggles with something to respond with, comes up with nothing. “You’ll be busy enough as it is, with the band and stuff.”

Dan frowns at him. “You know you _are_ part of the band, right?”

Charlie laughs disbelievingly, turning to face his friend. _That’s it._

"I'm not, though, Dan. You know that."

Dan sighs heavily through his nose, scuffing his Converse against the pavement. "I mean, not _officially_ , yeah. But I...I like you, and the rest of the guys like you, and the fans..."

Charlie tilts his head back and stares up at the abundance of stars visible in the night sky. He's never seen anything like it, never been out in the middle of the desert with no city lights to black out the constellations. It's only thanks to Dan that he gets to see it at all, which is why the next words he wrenches out of his chest hurt so much.

  
“Listen, Dan. I get it."

"Get...what?"

"You want to include me, you want me to feel like I’m ‘one of the Bastille guys’. But you know what happened today." 

  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, Dan, it's fine," Charlie snaps. "You guys go home, and you- I don’t know, go record your demos and drink your beer and do whatever the fuck you guys do when I go back home. I’m not _entitled_ to anything from you, or from the rest of them, and it would be _so_ much easier for everyone involved if you just stopped fucking pretending I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cue shit hitting the fan in 3, 2, 1.....


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _What_?” It comes out in a breath.

“ _What_ ?” It comes out in a breath. “You thought…” Dan’s looking at him with wide eyes, and Charlie feels completely and utterly exposed. “You thought we all hung out and forgot about you when you were gone?”

Charlie hesitates. “I mean...obviously? You’re all best friends, and I’m just-” he gestures helplessly, frustrated that the right words aren’t coming out of his mouth.

“I assumed,” he starts again, “that you guys would hang out, right? And since I was just,” he gestures at himself, “I don’t know, the random guitarist that just happened to be with you for shows…?”

“You thought we’d ignore you as soon as tour was over.” Dan’s shoulders slump, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. 

Charlie hesitates. “Well...yeah. I guess so.” He mirrors Dan’s posture, eyes downcast. “It’s alright, though, I’m not trying to complain-”

“I wouldn’t _ever_ _ignore_ you, Charlie.” His voice is deep, urgent, frustrated. “You _know_ everyone goes their separate ways after tour- we barely even _talk_ to each other unless I need someone in the studio. Why the hell would you ever think we'd do that to you?”

“I- I don’t know.” Charlie’s eyes flash as he looks back up at his friend. “You four seem to get along just fine, you did for five years, and I’ve been around for six months! I’m not an official _member_ , so of course I wouldn’t expect-”

“Do you want to be?”

“What?”

“I said,” Dan says slowly. “Do you want to be a part of the band? More than you are already?”

Charlie stares at him, speechless.

“Are you _mad_? What would I even _do_?” He bursts out frantically. “You already have Will to do guitar- he’s _wicked_ , he does a great job, you don’t need me. It’s not like _any of you_ -” he cuts off, mentally cursing at the way his throat closes up around the end of the sentence. 

Dan steps closer, puts a hand on his arm. Charlie swallows, looks down at the hand, refuses to look its owner in the eye. He’s not going to do this, he’s _not going to_ -

But he does. He looks up, sees _Dan_ , framed by the spotlights of the rest stop, hair falling onto his forehead, eyes dark and blue and staring into his own and _fuck_ , he needs it.

He needs Dan to look at him the way he’s looking at him right now. All the time. And he knows it’s foolish, it’s _so_ _stupid_ that he needs it, that he _wants_ it when it’s never going to happen, not in a million years.

But Dan looks at him with those stupidly deep eyes, says “ _I_ need you, Charlie,” and he pretends, for a moment, that it’s the truth.

  
He pretends that it’s fine that Dan leans in just a little closer, that he does the same, just a _little_ , and then they’re kissing, _hard_ , and whatever breath or thought he had vanishes in a millisecond because _Dan needs him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chanting* ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck,” Dan says, and Charlie lets out a little laugh despite his inner turmoil and feels a blush crawl up his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit, meet fan.

“Fuck,” Dan says, and Charlie lets out a little laugh despite his inner turmoil and feels a blush crawl up his neck.

“Yeah,” he breathes, before he sees Dan’s expression and his heart falls off a cliff. That hadn’t been a pleased “fuck”, after all.

“I-” Dan is at a loss for words, eyes darting everywhere as he pulls back, face visibly paling. “Fuck.” Charlie’s heart races as the singer leans back against the bus, running a hand through his hair roughly. If it weren’t for the situation, Charlie would _love_ to grab that hair and- _what the_ **_actual_ ** _fuck, Charlie. No._

They stand there for a moment, minds racing. Charlie, panicked, tries to think back to the past few minutes. What did he do wrong? Should they not have kissed? Dan sure _felt_ like he was interested, he _said_ \- no way Charlie could have read that so wrong.

_Right?_

“I should go,” Dan says, and Charlie deflates at the three small words. He can stop pretending now, at least.

“It’s not you, I just-” he takes a shuddering breath, pushing off the bus and backing away from Charlie. “I can’t.”

“Oh...kay,” Charlie says slowly. “Do you...do you want to talk about it?” It’s the only thing he can think to say that isn’t _oh fuck what did I do_ or _I know you were lying_ , but it isn’t enough. Dan shakes his head, swallowing hard.

“Can’t. Charlie, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to…” he sighs, sounding choked up as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair again. “I’m _sorry_. Fuck, why does it have to be like this?”

That throws Charlie off guard. “Wait, what? What the hell does that mean?”

Dan tenses up as he realizes what he’s said. “Shit.” 

And then he leaves.

“What the fuck?” Charlie says to the empty parking lot.

* * *

Charlie knows this is the part where he’s supposed to leave Dan alone, get out of his life before it’s too late. But he’s in a rest stop on a highway in the middle of fucking _nowhere_. There’s nowhere for him to hide, nowhere to escape to.

So he sits down, leans his head against the cool metal of the bus, and looks at the stars until the driver gets back from the bathroom. As expected, nobody else has even stirred in the bus, and it’s dark as he sneaks back to his bunk and crawls under the covers.

Like any other night, he’s stuck staring at the darkness that separates him from Dan. Unlike most other nights, though, he doesn’t have to imagine what it would be like to get up and kiss him.

When Charlie wakes up after what feels like two hours of sleep, they’re at the venue, and Kyle’s walking past his curtain loudly asking if anyone’s seen Dan.

He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he could pretend last night never happened. But it’s not a small thing for him, falling in love- if he can even bear to call it that.

Desperate not to think about it, he rolls out of the bunk and tugs on a pair of pants. He doesn’t have to be in the venue for soundcheck for another couple of hours, so he finds himself some coffee and ends up heading for the couch at the end of the tour bus.

Unfortunately for him, it’s not empty.

“Hi Charlie.”

“Uh- hey, Kyle.” He stands awkwardly in the entryway, hesitating for a moment. “Did you find Dan?”

“No, I didn’t,” Kyle says, taking a sip of his own coffee. “I was thinking maybe you’d know.”

Charlie blinks. “Me? Why would I know?”

Kyle stares at him. “I heard you outside last night.”

“Oh.” Charlie grips his coffee cup so tightly he’s afraid it might burst like his heart all over him. He takes a step back, to go back to bed or outside or to the venue or-

“Wait.” Kyle points to the opposite couch. “Sit.”

Charlie sits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUN. you ready for this? bet ur not.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dan, he…” Kyle sighs heavily through his nose, making his mustache flutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's...a Lot that happens in this chapter. good luck.

“Dan, he…” Kyle sighs heavily through his nose, making his mustache flutter. He puts his cup down on the table in front of him and leans his elbows on his knees. “He likes you.”

Charlie _hates_ how much his heart skips at that. “No, he doesn’t. Not like that.” He leans back against the back of the couch, drawing one leg towards him and wrapping both arms around it.

“You like him, though.” It’s not a question. Kyle just stares at him, unblinking, and seems to find what he’s looking for in Charlie’s panicked expression. He nods. “For a while, yeah?”

He doesn’t have the balls to respond to that, so he just shrugs. Kyle, it turns out, is leagues more perceptive than Charlie ever gave him credit for. 

“Don’t blame you,” he says, his eyes softening with sympathy as he looks across at his bandmate. “He’s an easy guy to fall for. You’re not the first.”

Charlie frowns. “Well, obviously not, it’s not like he never…” _Wait a minute._ He opens his mouth, but Kyle holds up a finger and stops him.

“Did Dan ever tell you,” Kyle says slowly, considering his words carefully. “About the person he broke up with before you joined the band?”

Charlie’s mind flashes back to last night, to the look on Dan’s face as he’d backed away. _Why does it have to be like this?_

_His ex._

_Dan has an ex._

Charlie raises his head, meets Kyle eye-to-eye. “That...that would explain a lot.” It’s all he can think to say, really, and the other man huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, I bet it would. He should be the one to tell you, but he’s an idiot, apparently, so I guess I will.” Kyle swallows and leans forward further. “Dan dated somebody, a little while ago. A bloke. And, er, it didn’t quite work out. Problem was, he worked with this guy, and it’s not like he could just quit.”

Charlie nods, trying to follow along with the conversation and feeling like there’s something he’s missing. Why wouldn’t Dan tell him he had an ex? _Who does he work with that he would’ve dated?_

“It wasn’t clean,” Kyle continues, voice dropping lower. “It was rough. Real messy. I’m still not sure he’s over it.”

“How do you know?” Charlie can’t help but ask. The leg he isn’t holding starts bouncing anxiously. Kyle shrugs, shoots him a rueful smile.  
  


“He texts me about it, sometimes. We’re supposed to be best friends, but he never talks to me anymore.” He looks sad, smaller than usual as he slouches on the black leather couch. Charlie frowns. He’s seen firsthand how Kyle’s always there for Dan, even when Dan doesn’t really seem to notice.

“I’m sure he still thinks of you as a best friend,” he tries. “You do so much for him.”

That gets a choked laugh out of Kyle. He stands abruptly, taking his half-empty coffee cup with him. He looks down at the guitarist, face unreadable.

“It’s the least I can do,” he says quietly. “I’m the one who broke his heart, after all.”

He pushes open the door and steps outside, and for a moment the bright light and sounds of the parking lot flood into the small room before the door slams shut.

Charlie sits there in shock, staring at the table. The sounds of Will’s snores fade after a few minutes, and the man gives him a weird look as he rolls out of bed and heads for the coffeemaker.

He’s late to soundcheck, plugging everything in and testing it on pure autopilot. He knows everyone’s looking at him, knows they know he’s being weird, but can’t find it within himself to care.

Dan, despite the countless missed calls from Kyle, never shows.

* * *

  
  


“You have to go find him,” Kyle says for the hundredth time. Charlie, for the hundredth time, shakes his head vigorously. “We’re on in less than an _hour_!”

“So _you_ go find him, then!” They’re both pacing the greenroom, Woody and Will whispering from the couch behind them ( _do you have any idea what the fuck is going on? yeah, me neither, mate...where do you think they keep the beer in this place?_ ).

“What about _I’m his shitty ex-boyfriend and he doesn’t want to talk to me_ don’t you understand?” Kyle exclaims. Charlie rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic just because you two didn’t work out. He still loves you, you idiot, he’s your _best friend._ ”

“ _Was_ my best friend. He barely talks to me except to argue with me, remember?”

“Maybe because you never talk to _him_!”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know the _first thing_ about having to _live_ with him for _months_ without being able to-“

“To what, Kyle? To say how you feel? Actually, yeah, you know what? I _think I would_!”

“Uh, guys…”

“Yeah, because you know him _so well_ -“

“Well apparently _you_ don’t, if you don’t even know where he is right now!”

“GUYS!”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything? I’m not a bloody _mind-reader_ , for Christ’s sake!”

They both finally turn, breathing heavily, to Woody, who’s standing there looking _extraordinarily_ confused. 

“What?” Kyle spits, and then his face falls. “Oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well? did you guess it??  
> probably, i'm not very subtle, but hey!! big plot twist reveal done!! time for shit to get even MORE CHAOTIC!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan’s not sure if he should have a mental breakdown or start laughing like a maniac when he walks into the greenroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahha...good luck with this one...pure chaos...

Dan’s not sure if he should have a mental breakdown or start laughing like a maniac when he walks into the greenroom. Charlie and Kyle are squared off on one side of the room, and Will and Woody look on from the sofa with increasingly concerned looks on their faces. 

Woody spots Dan first, and glares at him incredulously. 

“You and _Kyle_ were _dating_?”

“I-” This is... _not_ the conversation he wants to be having right now. “What’s going on?”

“What d’you _think_ is going on, Dan?” Will accuses, face in his palm. “Your ex-boyfriend and your- your new boyfriend, or I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out, he’s not making a lot of sense at the moment- are _fighting_ over _you_ , for some idiotic reason, and we’re on in forty-five minutes, and you completely missed soundcheck. Take a wild fucking guess.”

Woody’s trying to get Kyle and Charlie’s attention, and Dan looks to Will pleadingly.

“I’m _sorry_ , man, I wanted to tell you- _we_ wanted to, it just-“

“I don’t fucking care about _that_ bullshit right now, Dan! I wanna know why your two boyfriends are squabbling backstage and why you disappeared for the _entire day_ to go mope about them! Whatever happened to being the leader of a _band_ , man?”

Dan looks like he’s about to argue, but he sees the look in Will’s eyes and shuts his mouth firmly. By this point, all four sets of eyes are on him, and the room is silent. 

He takes a deep breath and nods. 

“Alright. Yeah.” He runs a hand over the top of his head and tries to compose himself. “I’m here. Let’s go do this fucking show.”

“ _What_?”

It seems like the last thing any of them are ready to do right now. But there’s a crowd out there waiting for them, so they leave the greenroom, passing all of the crew members and ignoring all the dumbfounded looks thrown in their direction. They go backstage and get their mics and make sure all the correct instruments are on stage, and the sound guys can barely hide their frustration when they finally see Dan show up without testing the mics, but what can they do about it now?

And somehow, in the strangest twist of them all...it’s not the worst show they’ve ever had. 

* * *

  
  


They’re barely off the stage before the crew’s all but pushing them towards the nearest bar. Dan and Charlie and Kyle protest, but Woody and Will just shake their heads and usher them out the door.

They get a round table, instead of the oversized wooden booths they usually single out, and spend an embarrassing amount of time trying to figure out who should sit where. Dan ends up between Woody and Will, and he immediately flips up his hoodie and slumps against the back of the chair. Across from him is the empty seat that separates Kyle and Charlie, and he stares at it to avoid having to look at either of the men.

Will flags down the bartender (who either recognizes who they are or can simply feel the tension buzzing around the table, he’s not entirely sure) and within a few minutes they’re all nursing tall glasses of beer in silence.

Alcohol normally works like a charm, but it takes three rounds before anyone starts talking.

“So,” Kyle says, concentrating hard on the word. All heads turn to him. He looks back in surprise, lifting his hands defensively. “I wasn’t trying to be the one to... _someone_ needed to say something!” 

“Thank you,” Will says pointedly. “I’m tired of being the one who has to do it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Woody scoffs. “I’m the one who broke up _these_ two idiots earlier. Pompous ass,” he mutters.

“Oh, come _on_ , don’t start with that-”

“Now _you_ guys sound like the old married couple,” Kyle exclaims, looking over at Charlie and rolling his eyes. Charlie blinks in surprise, but he can feel a smile tug at his lips anyways. At the end of the day, they’re all being _ridiculous_ , and Kyle’s been too nice to him for him to stay mad.

There’s laughter coming from the other side of the table, now, and when they look over Dan’s curled up in the chair, knees somehow pulled up to his chest despite his long legs. His face is tucked behind them, and his shoulders shake uncontrollably.

“Is he…” Kyle says, concerned. They fall silent and stare at the man, or his hair, really, because that’s all any of them can see.

“Is he crying or laughing?” Charlie finishes Kyle’s thought in a low voice, and Kyle shrugs. Dan lifts his head, and even in the dim light they can see the red around his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“This is _so stupid_ ,” he proclaims, swaying a little and letting one foot drop back to the floor. “I’m so stupid. And _you’re_ stupid,” he points at Charlie, “ _And_ you,” at Kyle, “And you two, too,” he tries to point at the men on either side of him, and they both grab a shoulder so he doesn’t follow his foot to the hardwood floor. He laughs again deliriously at his own words.

“He’s drunk,” Kyle says to the table. Will, still supporting Dan, looks at him and says, deadpan, “Thanks. I had no idea.”

“He didn’t even drink that much!” Woody protests. “Unless he…” They all pause with a collective realization.

“Drinking during the show now, are we?” Will asks with his eyebrows raised. Dan shrugs and hiccups.

“Had two water bottles. Only one was water. Y’should try it sometime, it helps.”

“ _No_ , it doesn’t!” Kyle and Will say in unison.

“It does if you don’t forget which one is wa-ter,” the singer explains in a sing-song tone, gaining a collective sigh from the table. 

“We should get him back to the bus,” Charlie suggests. “We have no idea how much he’s had to drink.”

There’s a few nods and murmurs of assent, and then they’re hoisting Dan up and praying that there aren’t any particularly eagle-eyed Bastille fans in the joint.

It’s not exactly the way they’d planned on spending their last night on tour. But at this point, what the fuck else is new?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dan finally gets up, after what feels like days of dozing in and out of consciousness in the small bunk, they’re waiting for him.

When Dan finally gets up, after what feels like days of dozing in and out of consciousness in the small bunk, they’re waiting for him. He groans as he rolls out of the bunk, bracing himself against the light as the pounding headache sets in.

Kyle hands him a coffee, just how he likes it, and then he joins the rest of the band on the couches. It’s a little squished with five of them, but they make it work. 

Dan checks the location on his phone, sees they’re only an hour or two out from arriving at the airport.

“How long was I out?” He asks, throat hoarse. Woody looks up and shakes his head.

  
“A long time, man. But I think we all know you needed it.”

“Yeah, no offense, but you kinda looked like shit last night,” Will adds helpfully, earning himself a death glare from Kyle and Charlie. 

“So?” Dan spreads his hands out in a placating gesture. “I’m up, we’ve got an hour.” He takes a shaky breath, already wishing he could disappear back to his bunk for...forever, perhaps. “Have at it.”

* * *

And finally, after years of keeping their secret in painful silence, Dan and Kyle spill everything, from the moment they’d realized they liked each other to the day they’d finally agreed to start dating. They hadn’t wanted to tell Will or Woody or anybody else, fearing that it would lead to the end of Bastille before they’d even really got started.

But then Pompeii blew up (figuratively this time, of course), and things got out of hand. They were forced back into the closet, forced to hide in secret and never share their relationship with anyone for fear it would leak to the rest of the world.

Woody and Will might have suspected something was up, but they never asked, never pried, assuming their age-old rule was still being upheld. _I thought maybe you were just fucking_ , Will says at one point, and Dan would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been so close to throwing up.

Kyle’s the one who gets them through the parts that Dan’s tried to black out- the tension, the fighting, the effect it was having on their performances, the weight of keeping it all from their closest friends and family. 

The day Kyle finally went to Dan, drawing up all of his courage and building defensive walls against his heart, and told him they needed to talk. 

Dan hadn’t spoken to him for weeks afterwards, but then the tour manager had called and told him about new shows he’d booked for the band. After multiple failed attempts to convince him to cancel the shows, Dan had had a bit of a breakdown and called Kyle.

They’d be friends again, they decided. They’d be bandmates and best friends and never mention the nearly year-long _thing_ that had happened between them. Woody and Will would be none the wiser, and the fans might talk, but they would be doing that no matter what any of the band members said.

It was easier said than done, of course. It took Kyle months to fall out of love with Dan, to convince himself that they were better off without each other- too young, too dumb, in a world too unstable to stay together without consequences. 

Dan had beat himself up over it for even longer, blaming himself for Kyle’s guilt even when the other man insisted it wasn’t his fault. He’d become more withdrawn again, growing uncomfortable when interviewers interrogated him about his romantic life or when the rest of the band joked about picking up girls on tour.

He’d felt so alone, even surrounded by the rest of the band. And then Charlie came along, and...

“Aww,” Will says sarcastically at that. “Do we get to hear the story of how _you two_ fell in love, too, then? Let me get the popcorn.”

“We’re not-” Charlie blurts, red-faced, at the same time Dan says, “I think we’re here.”

* * *

  
  


And then they’re standing in Heathrow, and everything feels so similar that Charlie has to laugh at the déjà vu. Dan glances at him curiously.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Charlie smiles at him and shakes his head, but Dan seems to know what he’s thinking anyways. As if on cue, the singer starts picking at the cardboard sleeve around his coffee cup again.

But this time, Charlie clears his throat and says, “You should come over, sometime.”

Dan jerks his head up, eyes wide. “What?”

“To my place,” he clarifies. “If you want to, that is.” Dan’s nodding almost before he finishes the sentence, a grin playing at the edge of his mouth.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” He pulls a sleeve of his jacket over his hand and tugs at it. “You can sing “MacbethMacbethMacbeth” for me, scare all the neighbors away.”

Charlie stares at him curiously, gears turning in his head. “...And why, exactly, would I want to scare them away?”

Dan full-on smirks now, face growing pink as he shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean…I was just kidding.”

But Charlie just laughs. “You’re an interesting one, Dan.” He takes one last sip of coffee and stands up, waiting for the singer to do the same, and then the five of them go their separate ways once more.

(But not for long, this time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you have...no idea how hard it was to keep all this from spilling while i was writing this. so here you go. enjoy.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you made it! thank you a million times for reading all the way through this, you have absolutely no idea how much it means to me <3

It takes a year before they make it official. Still, by the time the five of them get back together in April, Dan and Charlie are already grinning like idiots and proceeding to make life a living hell for the other three men on the bus.

And for once, Dan isn’t afraid of what Kyle thinks. Over their short break from touring, Charlie persuades him to call his ex and talk things through, and they do. It’s awkward as hell, and Dan would be lying if part of him still didn’t want to go running back to the easy days, but he knows he can’t. It’s water under the bridge now, and finally, the thought doesn’t make him anxious.

Instead, he goes back to texting Kyle like his best friend, and Kyle, to his credit, goes along with it gratefully. Instead, Dan jumps back and forth between contacts, talking to Charlie about the music they’re both writing and to Kyle about possible studio dates (which he invites Charlie to anyways, of course).

They tour all year, traveling all over the world as _Wild World_ continues to take shape. After hearing the demo, Kyle insists they keep _The Anchor_ on the album, Dan argues, and it ends up as a bonus track as a compromise. Dan almost doesn’t let Charlie listen to _Warmth_ after he writes it, too self-conscious to disclose something so personal to the person it's written about. But Charlie loves it, laughing nervously at the lyrics and confirming with Dan that it’s not _too_ obvious what it’s about (it is, but in a short burst of confidence, Dan declares to the band in the studio that he doesn’t give a _fuck_ what people think, thank you very much), and _Wild World_ is born.

And then it’s September, and it’s out, and Bastille’s back.

Sure, there’s still the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, the fear that Charlie and Dan are going to crash and burn and take the band with them. But then it’s 2017, and their coming out post is ricocheting around social media for a month, and then it’s 2018, and they’re moving in together, and everything’s alright.

Well, not _everything_.

  
  


The neighbors fucking _hate_ them.

* * *

**_Early 2018_ **

They’re laying in bed, moonlight filtering in through the curtains, when Dan sits up straight and shivers as the sheet falls off his chest. Charlie stirs, squinting up at the figure blearily.

“S’goin’ on?” Silence. “You don’t have to wake me up every time you need to sing to your phone, you know. That’s why you have. Y’know. A _phone_.”

Dan turns to him, leans down to look him in the face- well, as much as he can in the dark bedroom, and says what he’s been thinking for days.

“You should do backing vocals on the next album.”

Charlie’s silent for a moment. Just when Dan sits back up, thinking he’s fallen back asleep again, he hears muffled laughter coming from the pillow.  
  


“You woke me up,” Charlie murmurs, “at…” he flips over and squints on his phone. “3:52am…” he rolls back over and stares at Dan, “to tell me I should sing on the nebulous ‘new record’ that doesn’t even have a name yet.”

“Um…” Dan shrugs half-heartedly. “Yeah?”

Charlie watches the dark Dan-shaped blob, silhouetted against the moonlit wall, and smiles.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. The Dan-blob shifts on the mattress. “Yeah, okay.”

A sigh. “Okay. Good.” Charlie nods sleepily and rolls back over to go back to sleep.

“Also...I think I’ll shave my head for it.”

Charlie sits up so fast he falls off the bed, taking most of the blankets with him. 

Dan laughs at him for days.

  
  


(and very nearly accidentally fucks up the take in the music video when it pops into his head, but nobody besides Charlie needs to know that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


End file.
